


The Scientific Method

by Drej_0z



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Duskwight Elezen (Final Fantasy XIV), Ishgard (Final Fantasy XIV), Other, Voidsent (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drej_0z/pseuds/Drej_0z
Summary: "One is only limited by one's own flawed sense of purpose."A collection of life events, drabbles, inconclusive data, and poor decisions following Anafiel Donadieu, an absolute hot mess of a black mage.





	The Scientific Method

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual work posted on this site, so uh, HI STRANGERS.
> 
> Made the decision to start posting my personal character drabbles here, mainly for feedback/getting things out of my head. Figured someone might enjoy them, and I haven't written much of anything fictional in awhile. Feel free to add constructive criticism and ask questions!

Anafiel’s fingernails left impatient half-moon markings in his satchel’s aged leather. 

It felt as though hours had passed since he’d pressed his back against the sanded wood of his chamber doors, though in reality it had only been about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of waiting for the inevitable lull in the house’s activity. Fifteen long, chafing minutes.

He closed his eyes and released the breath he’d been holding. The last servant’s footsteps had faded away into nothing, leaving nothing but the stillness of the halls and the faint whisper of Coerthan winds from his tightly sealed chamber window. Finally.

To his relief, the wooden door swung open with only a whisper of a squeak and closed behind him with little fanfare. A carpenter he was not, but the quieting spell he’d left on the hinges after nearly being caught last time proved extremely effective. Anafiel began to walk quickly down the hallway, pausing at the first intersection to listen for approaching footsteps. The staff they’d been afforded were small in number, but it was all too common for him to misjudge their _speed_ on nights like this.

When only silence greeted him, he took a breath and began to walk down the corridor towards the rear of the house, to the servants’ doors that awaited him there. Only a few yalms more before he reached them…

“Anafiel.” 

No. _Hells_ no, he’d start running and wouldn’t stop until he reached the far end of Coerthas and dropped dead. Not this time. Already, his pace had begun to quicken -

“Anafiel. Stop it. Are you really running from me?” 

As if compelled, his legs turned to lead and his feet slowed to a reluctant stop. Anafiel nearly choked with the effort of swallowing the growl of irritation bubbling to life in his throat. After a moment, he finally turned, a _very_ patient smile plastered on his face. Not that it’d fool her for a moment.

“Riavienne. Come to see me off for an evening walk? I didn’t think I needed quite this much protection.”

Even in a plain woolen gown, Ria’s cold glare could rival that of a pureblood Ishgardian noblewoman’s. He had seen it rattle the nerves of those who would look down on them in public. He had watched his father struggle under the weight of those icy blue eyes even as children.

And Anafiel himself was hardly a match for someone so willful as Lady Riavienne Oldette Donadieu.

She closed the distance between them rapidly, arms folded across her chest. Over the plain wool gown was a thick green coat, with her black riding gloves and hat, and….had she truly dressed to go out for the night?

“Evening walk, indeed. ” Her lips twisted slightly in annoyance. “I’m not sure why you’re even trying. How many times do you think I’ve watched you sneak out of here?” 

He offered a sheepish grin. “Once or twice?” 

“How about every other quarter bell after midnight, down this corridor, and out the servants’ entrance, where you venture to parts unknown for approximately four hours.” Ria’s eyes narrowed sharply. “And I imagine I do not have to guess what goes on during these 'evening walks' of yours.”

“It is research, Ria, nothing more.”

“Oh yes, _research._ ” She nearly spat the word. “It’s that nonsense with the void, isn’t it?” To her credit, she was at least keeping her voice down, though Anafiel could easily tell she was not as angry as she pretended to be. Behind the coldness, behind the frustration, there was the smallest hint of curiosity. 

And in curiosity, they had almost always been of one mind.

He moved the satchel to his other shoulder. The weight was not as noticeable while focused on escape, but now he finally felt the leather threaten to leave bruises. “It is hardly _nonsense_ , and you know full well I’ve shared enough of it with you to prove otherwise.” He paused, watching her expression - which didn’t change, of course. 

“But if you must know, tonight’s outing was meant as a...more _thorough_ test of the past year’s findings.” Before she could protest, he added, “And not to worry, I have come up with a safer testing ground than the last. One that is well away from any small homes or encampments. You may rest easy tonight in the knowledge that I have accounted for every possible mishap.” 

She rolled her eyes so hard he thought they’d be stuck that way. “Of course you have. Until you step in another heap of shite you didn’t think about. Or have you forgotten that there’s at least three households that think we have Voidsent-summoning heretics hiding in the trees, all because of your tests?” She sighed, hard and exasperated. “Tell me what it is you plan to do tonight, and do not leave out an _ilm_ of detail.”

“Why so interested all of a sudden? You looked like you were about to run screaming to Father.”

“I still may, depending on your answer. “ That cold, commanding look was back. “So talk.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes now. He hefted the satchel from his shoulder and dragged a well-used journal from its depths, passing it over to his sister. “Read all you like. The last five or six pages of notes. I am _not_ chattering on about my _evening walk’s activities_ in the hallway.” 

She raised a single eyebrow, but took the journal and began thumbing through the indicated pages. Anafiel folded his arms and leaned back against the wall to shut his eyes for a moment. His fingers had just begun to drum impatiently on his upper forearm before he heard the journal snap closed. Casually, carefully, he turned his head to meet Riavienne’s eyes...which were suddenly fearful.

“Anafiel, tell me you don’t mean to try this.” Her hands gripped the journal as if it would prevent her from floating away. “You told me for _months_ that this was about...about _controlling_ them. Binding them, then the geas. You never said anything at all about binding one to _yourself.”_

“Because I knew you wouldn’t agree with the method.” He pinched the tip of his nose; he did not have time for this. “ _Think_ , Ria. My previous attempts resulted in lesser creatures running wild, looking to gorge themselves on every piece of aether they could find. It is far more difficult to exert control without forming an unbreakable pact...which is the exact scenario for which I have been trying to find an alternative.” 

“So you propose offering your body as a vessel. A host to be corrupted like any other. How is that any different?”

She had supported him in this, to a limited extent. Threatened to tell their father, the handful of times his experiments had resulted in small incidents of accidental chaos. And yet here she stood, engaging him in scholarly debate, as always. For that, he had to grin, even as she looked at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“It is different because I will bind the creature before the corruption can occur. Before it begins to twist my own aether. And once bound, well…” He spread his hands in a shrug. “The voidsent effectively becomes vestigial.” 

Ria had not released her death grip on the journal. Anafiel saw her jaw clench, then release. “Anafiel, if you go through with this, I _will_ tell Father. This goes too far.” The ice in her gaze was beginning to melt; she faltered, stepping closer to him and grasping the side of his coat. “Anafiel...this...you cannot predict what will happen. I have said it so often that your ears must be bleeding to hear it said again - you are too _confident._ Do you think I want to see my own brother gibbering in a lunatic’s ward?” 

He did not speak for a moment, did not meet her imploring eyes. No...he could never predict the results. The realm of study he had chosen was, by nature, unpredictable. She knew that. And yet, it was her who’d always made sure he predicted and planned for unwanted outcomes as best as he possibly could. It was her idea to spread out the project over half a year and longer, with live experiments to be conducted sparingly so as not to draw attention. Every idea of his, she’d tempered with a single suggestion. She had turned half-baked ideas and guesswork into a hypothesis with actionable steps.

Even if the sarcastic, ill-tempered, absolutely brilliant woman didn’t realize it, this was her project, as much as his own. 

“Ria…” His hand clasped her own, tightly. “Do you know how much you’ve taught me, all these years? Even the lessons I was most unwilling to learn?” Her fingers tightened on his coat, but she remained silent. “I cannot ask you to trust me entirely. Not with the blunders I’ve made so many times before. But I _am_ asking you to trust that I can see this through without causing undue harm to myself.  
“There is nothing more tragic than a poorly researched hypothesis”...or so you’ve said.” 

Ria’s lips tightened sharply. She finally released his coat, her hands coming to rest on her hips. Anafiel fought back a wince; the cold commanding look had returned with a vengeance. 

“Then this time, in the name of _scientific efficiency,_ I will be accompanying you on your latest experimental excursion.” Her brows rose slowly, as if daring him to disagree. This was not a request; Anafiel would be a fool to press his luck. Yet the smallest trace of a smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

He grinned, and bowed. 

“Then, Lady Riavienne, I would be delighted to have you along.” 


End file.
